by Tiana Laveen
“Mmmm, what are you cookin’? Smells like jealousy.” He cackled.
“Arrogant piece of shit,” she mumbled. “What a waste of a good fuck and big dick.”
“And you’re just a waste of air. If you put this much energy into raising our daughter, it would be amazing.”
“You wanted some 1950s wife! You gotta lotta nerve treatin’ me like some second class citizen and acting like I’m a bad parent.”
“You are…”
“You could have provided a good life for us with everything that you had, but instead you wanted to try and treat me like a child and be a dictator.”
“That’s all you cared about. What you could get out of me, my reputation, my power, how I fucked you, and the money I could make. I started my company with not one lick of help from you, but you had the nerve to try and get half and we weren’t even married! I would ask you simple stuff, to help make a couple of calls for me, make a sandwich, clean up a bit. I told you I’d take care of you, but all you wanted to do was party. None of that shit even matters anymore though. Why are we even talkin’ about this? The only thing we need to be discussing is Laura.”
“You know what? I’ve known for the longest that you were pissed when I moved on.”
“Pissed when you moved on?” This bitch is serious! “I was glad you were someone else’s’ problem now. I never called and asked you to reconcile, not once! Let me make this clear to you, Sarah. I wouldn’t fuck you again if your pussy became the only entrance to heaven and a promise to eternal life.”
“Fuck you, Aaron! More money, or go to court.”
“If you go down this path, Sarah, you will be sorry. I don’t want to be wrapped up in the court system again for any reason, and you know this. I’ve been warning you for years to stop fucking with me but you keep pushin’ the limit.”
“Pushing the limit? You’re a psychopath, you know that?”
“Do you even actually know what a psychopath is? Less than 1% of the population is comprised of actual psychopaths, Sarah. About 25% of them are in prison and I can guarantee you, not for civil rights issues or self-defense. If I were truly a psychopath, you and I wouldn’t be on the phone right now. You’d be unable to communicate, let alone call and harass me.”
“You sick fuck. Are you threatening me?” she spat out, as if her teeth were clenched like a rabid dog’s.
“I don’t know, am I?” he sneered, wanting a piece of her. He thanked his lucky stars they weren’t face to face during this unexpected showdown. He feared he may have snapped.
“A fuckin’ nutjob just like I said! Oh my God, you’re a crazy motherfucker.”
“You knew that when you met me. You liked it. Now that things have changed, and not in your favor, your tune has a new beat. I didn’t marry you like you wanted. I saw you for what you were before it was too late. Regardless, thank you for Laura. I love my daughter and wouldn’t change her existence for the world.”
“When we met you told me you were about family, about building a life together. You were supposed to marry me. I told you I was pregnant and you went back on your word! We were supposed to be together!”
After all these years, the truth had finally come out… He lowered his head and shook it, feeling sorry for the woman. Mansionair’s ‘Hold Me Down’ began to play on his stereo.
“I took care of my responsibilities, Sarah. As angry as you’ve made me over the years, including right now, I’d never harm you. I could not bring myself to hurt the vessel that gave my offspring life and you’ve used that against me. But here’s the thing, Sarah. You know some of the things I went through as a youngster. You don’t know all of it, but you know enough to understand that I abhor even the thought of abuse when it comes to children. Laura loves us both. She is very attached to you, so, it’s left me at a disadvantage in some regard. But, if you hurt my child through neglect, or verbal or emotional abuse… of course physical, too…well, then all bets are off. You have one last chance to get your shit together, and I mean that.” His voice lowered.
“You think I’m soft because I’m not with the Socialist Movement anymore? Believe that stupid shit if you want to. Just this morning I saw one of the brethren. He knows I’m out, and he still bowed down to me…”
Her breathing grew louder over the phone.
“I’m the same damn Aaron you met, dated, moved in with, fucked and fucked over, minus the childish racist bullshit…same man.” He took a leisurely sip of his beer. “You know some of the shit I’ve done… the blood soaked clothes at two in the morning.” His teeth pierced his lower lip as a budding smirk formed. “The tattoos that have charted my progress up the food chain, so to speak. Swords to the gut…” He heard her swallow, a gulp of nervous spit undoubtedly lodged in her throat…and he liked it… “I’ll do it again if you push me, honey. Don’t fuck with our child, Sarah. Don’t do it. No more chances. Try to take me to court… get my name back on a goddamn docket and I’ll fuck your entire world up. You’ve been warned for the final time and if I were you, I’d heed it…”
A steely silence weaved its way between the two of them.
Without a warning, she slammed the phone down in his ear, causing his drum to ring. He stood there inside his kitchen, one hand and his forehead against the wall as an internal glow grew and burned him from the inside out.
I want my daughter away from there, from that household, that craziness, that dysfunction. But Laura loves her mother so much… She tells me that all the time. If I try to take her, she’d be heartbroken.
Laura, Daddy is in a hard spot right now, baby girl… Fuck!
He pounded the wall.
Sarah and I made something so beautiful out of something so ugly. I can’t wake her up, make her do the right thing. I’ve tried. I have to come up with something else. She sees our daughter as a damn meal ticket. My daughter’s well being is at stake. I have to do what I have to do. I’m convinced whatever the solution is, it won’t be pretty…
Three days later…
MIA PEERED DOWN at her hand, admiring the classic cut rock that Aaron had left wrapped within a piece of his business letterhead stationery, folded in a rather special yet familiar way. She had to laugh at the man. He’d rung her bell like a child playing ‘doorbell ditching’, and when she opened the door to see who her unexpected visitor was, all she saw was his shiny black truck kicking up pebbles and dust along the road as he disappeared into an abyss of nothingness, the sounds of ‘Hold Back the River’ by James Bay flowing out the man’s open window.
She’d called after him several times, certain he must have thought she wasn’t home but then, something close to her feet caught her eye. Perched on that rickety, slanted porch was an origami swan. Once she bent low and opened the thing up, she took note of a gray velvet bag with a satin satchel. She pulled at the ends and revealed a thing of true, majestic beauty.
A large, oval diamond ring caught the light so perfectly, a rainbow reflected from the surface onto a window, glimmering in unbelievable contrast. The way he’d done it surprised the hell out of her, and she knew that was exactly what he wanted! How else was a man supposed to surprise his soon-to-be bride after already declaring her his? The gesture and the ring within itself nearly knocked her off her damn feet.
“Oh my Lord!”
It blew her damn breath away; so much so, she stumbled back, almost falling into her screen door, tearing it the rest of the way down from its skimpy, lackluster frame. Tears of mirth and joy intermingled and streamed down her cheeks. It was just like him to run from a possible emotionally charged scene. He didn’t want to see her crying, happy or not, and perhaps he wished to avoid his own meltdown as well. He’d sidestepped the entire set up by simply doing what was necessary, in a gentlemanly approach, and went on about his way.
So now, all was quiet. She adjusted the thing on her finger and looked back at the road. The dust had settled, but somehow, his essence still hung in the air. As she turned to enter her home and call that sneaky son of a bitch to
thank him and make him come over for dinner, she caught the scent of something so sweet and mild…
There, on the windowsill, sat a large bouquet of orange irises, wrapped with an elegant black and white satin bow. She backed up and picked it up, giving it a hearty sniff.
“Mmmm… smells so good.” Then she noticed a little scroll of paper rolled tightly inside the ribbon. She gave it a few gentle tugs, freeing it from its confines, and read the simple words:
I don’t know much about plants, but I know about irises. They used to grow in my mother’s (Pam) garden. They came in all colors of the rainbow; one of the few flowers, according to her, that come in just about any color you could imagine. Irises are all beautiful, not one of them is inferior or superior to another. Their aroma is strong and sweet, and they have a unique look about them. We are all different, and that makes each one of us special, much like the distinctive hues of these flowers. The iris represents heroism, hope, and acumen. I think that is befitting for us. I think that sums us up just fine. I love you. You are my iris in a garden that I took for granted. There’s a big world out there, and I almost overlooked one of the most beautiful blooms of all.
Love,
Aaron
WITH HER AMBER eyes, so much like his, framed by dark blond hair and a set of unkempt eyebrows, Amy looked a tad bit disturbed despite her pristine trappings inside of Mountain View Hospital in Gadsden, Alabama. She’d been in the mental institution for bipolar and addiction issues for four years, off and on, give or take. Aaron sat before her, forcing a smile as his little sister smiled right back at him with mischief in her eyes.
“You’re even bigger than when I last saw you… muscles ’nd shit…big motherfucker…” She chuckled as her eyes hooded. “What chew been liftin’ in prison, boy? The whole fuckin’ block?”
He burst out laughing as she dug under her armpit with no damn care as to who saw, curing an apparent itch. Her hospital gown bunched from her movements, causing him to stifle a smirk.
“Amy, what are you doing dressed like that, huh?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, judgment all over his tone. “It’s two in the afternoon.”
She shrugged and looked about the place, her thin frame barely holding onto the fabric. “It’s more comfortable.”
He nodded in understanding.
“I haven’t seen you in two years. It was long overdue. I missed you.”
“Missed you, too.” She sniffed, her nose pink and puffy, her eyes watery and glossed over with permanent sadness.
She looks just like Mama…
“I heard your company still doin’ good… that’s good.” She grinned at him, exposing a couple of teeth in need of removal.
“It is. I was lucky I suppose. Everything could have gone to hell.”
“You talk to Joe-Joe? He said he was comin’ next week.”
“Yeah, I talked to that idiot.” Aaron smiled a bit wider as he ran his fingers along the side of his neck. “He is trying to be a music producer and rapper and some other shit.”
“He got a good ear though, Aaron! Don’t knock it. You call it jungle bunny music,” she taunted. “I like some of it though.”
He leaned further in his seat and crossed his arms. An orderly walked past with a cart loaded with small white cups. He watched as the man went on down the hall, leaving them alone in the vast visitor room.
“So,” she sighed. “How is your campaign to take over the world or whatever the hell you are doing? I might be crazy but I told you that that was too much for me.” She cackled.
“Funny, yeah? I suppose it is… No, it’s not funny, not funny at all…” He held tight to his smirk, possessive of the protection it provided, but a pang of hurt smacked him across his damn heart at her joking about his former world. “I’m not a part of that anymore, Amy. I resigned.”
She looked at him long and hard, as if filled with true disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You’ve been… you’ve been that way for almost as long as I can remember. What happened?”
He sighed and looked leisurely about the place as if the answer lay somewhere there. After a go at cracking his knuckles, he setting his hands upon the table. “It’s a very long story … but, sometimes people wake up, you know? I was wrong. I realized this over the past year and needed to make the choice to leave all that behind.”
She cocked her head to the side, and her dry lips slowly opened until she was laughing so hard, it fucking echoed. Her eyes grew tiny and glistened with something provoking and rascally.
“What?” He grinned. “What’s so funny?”
“I know my brother…”
“You know your brother?”
“Yeah… it’s a woman. A woman must not have liked your ways!” She burst out laughing again and this time, he could not help but follow suit.
“Well, yeah.” He reluctantly nodded in agreement. “That was part of it.”
“I knew it! Who is she? Who you done laid claim to? I hated Sarah with a goddamn passion! Glad that bitch is gone… now who is her replacement? Anyone has to be better than that fuckin’ cunt!”
“Amy Lynn Pike! Watch your language!” a nurse called out from a distance. His sister rolled her eyes and stared back at him.
“Well?”
“Yeah, you and Sarah used to argue like two feral cats jammed up in a trashcan. Anyway, her name is Mia Armstrong.”
“Hmmm, where she from?” She leaned in close, waiting for the rest of the goods.
“She’s originally from Auburn. She lives near Atmore, now.”
“You said her name was Mia?” Her lower lip twisted to the side, she sank her uneven teeth into the pale flesh.
“Yeah…”
“Ma-ma-Mia!” Amy drummed the table like a show was about to start as she turned his love life into a senseless spectacle. “Tell me about her, goddamn it.”
Aaron sighed and shook his head at the woman as Smith serenaded ‘The Weight’ from Easy Rider.
“You are awfully interested in this. You’ve never asked about any other women I was seein’.”
“I’m bored as fuck, man! This is the most action I’ve gotten in years! I gotta live vicariously through you.”
“No, you don’t. You’ll be getting out of here any day now.” He looked around the place, hoping and praying his words were true. Such dismal, depressing surroundings…
“No, I won’t; I’m a risk. I don’t take my medicine when I’m out,” she said, counting off her fingers. “I get drunk, get into bar fights. I don’t check in with my probation officer on a regular basis and I buck authority.”
She said the shit so matter-of-factly but, unfortunately, she was right. Amy was his little sister, no larger than a mustard seed, but she caused fear in many due to her violent outbursts and unruly ways.
“Not any time soon anyway. I’m safer in here. The world is safer with me in here.” She chuckled. “But enough of that, tell me about Mia. Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “Let me do like you and Joe-Joe used to do, you fuckin’ perverts! Is she brunette, blonde, or redhead?” She giggled like some maniac and hugged herself tight.
A tickle crept up his throat, reminding him of the senseless questions he’d asked Mia so long ago… She’d passed his test with a bit of trickery. Would he administer the same?
“Brunette.” He couldn’t help but smirk.
“Really?” Her brow rose in suspicion. “I’ve only seen you with blondes! Well, well, well… you’ve changed your M.O.,” she stated as if she were some detective.
“I’ve dated some dark-haired women before.”
“Yeah? I guess you have… You and Joe-Joe go through women faster than you change underwear! Damn womanizers, just like Dad!” she spat, her brows furrowed just so.
“What?! I never ran through a bunch of women. Amy, you’re crazy!”
“Yeah, and what’s your point?”
They both burst out laughing.
“So anyway, yeah,
she’s nice… real nice. I love her. We’re gettin’ married actually.”
Just then, he watched her smile slowly fade. “You found her…” she said in almost a whisper.
“I don’t…understand.”
Amy must be having one of her moments…
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“When we were little, one time you played dolls with me out in the front yard, remember?”
Aaron scratched his head, trying to dig up those recollections, but nothing came to him; nothing registered. He simply shook his head, sorry he could not pull from his memory bank.
“One day, Mama and Arnold were at it again. I was upset so you did what you never did, and offered to play with me, to get me out of there. No tellin’ where Travis was.”
“It sounds so strange when you call Joe-Joe Travis; I sometimes forget that’s his real name.” They both laughed.
“Yeah, anyway, we got outside, playing, and Mama’s voice was carryin’. We could hear crashing, like plates bustin’ up and them cussin’ each other out. Arnold was drunk, and probably so was Mama, too. I was shakin’; my nerves were bad. Ain’t that a shame how a seven-year-old could have bad nerves?”
Aaron slowly nodded as a rush of warm rage overcame him. Yes, the memory was materializing, front and center, becoming real once more.
“So, we were playin’ and I had the Barbie and the Ken doll and you said, ‘That’s me.’ You were talking about the Ken doll. You then pointed to the Barbie that I had inside the dollhouse holding a little rolled up piece of tissue paper that I pretended was her baby. And you said, ‘I’m gonna have a nice family, Amy. I’m gonna have a wife, and babies. I won’t throw stuff at my wife. I won’t spend up all our rent money. My wife will be happy. I’ll make her happy and she won’t treat our kids bad. She’ll love them because she’ll be a good mother and I’ll be a good husband and father. She’ll show it and never treat ’em bad.’ I never forgot that, Aaron. I think, inside, you was always a hopeless romantic. You’d write stuff down and tuck it away. I’d find the papers and read them… real pretty words, Aaron. You was a real good writer.”
